Return To The Past
by Laura McFly
Summary: When Megan McFly finds a video tape from 1985, she sets off a chain of events that lead to her unwittingly changing history. Now it's a race against time to make sure she is even born!
1. Makes One Girl Weep

Disclaimer: I do not own Back To The Future or its characters. Characters from the films are copyright Universal Studios and U-Drive Productions. All other characters are my own creation and may not be used without permission.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Megan Martina McFly!" I opened one eye and groaned loudly in response. My bed was too nice and warm to get up yet; just another five minutes. That would slowly turn into ten, and ten would become fifteen, until I was late for school. It was 7:25 AM - way too early for my liking. But I couldn't afford a fourth tardy slip in a row. I pulled the blanket over my head and shut my eyes again. Maybe I could dream myself through the day . . . through my whole high school life . . .  
  
"Get up AT ONCE, young lady!" My aunt's harsh shrill voice rang up the stairs again. It sent shivers down my spine, coupled with a horrible pang in my stomach that I had to face another day of hassle. I kicked off my covers and rolled onto the floor with a thud. My head hit the leg of my desk as I fell. Swearing loudly, I got to my feet and wandered aimlessly into my en suite bathroom. It took ten minutes for the cold shower to sting my skin to life. I grabbed some inside-out black baggy jeans and drowsily dragged them on, watching my high-tops lace themselves as I dressed. My new Café Eighties jacket was a little too big for me. I pressed the button flashing on the inside label and it adjusted to become a fitted top. Racing down the corridor to the stairs, I slid down the banister and landed in our kitchen.  
  
Aunt Marlene glowered at me as I sat down. She slammed a plate of bacon down on the table so hard it made the crockery jump. I couldn't see my father, who was buried behind the real estate section of the Hill Valley Telegraph, but I smiled at him anyway. He turned back the corner of the newspaper and nodded curtly.  
  
"Hey, Dad," I said quietly, knowing I wouldn't get a response. "Hey, Aunt Marlene." She gave me another evil look and pretended to ignore me. I tried again. "Hey."  
  
"What do you say, Megan?" she replied in a pinched voice.  
  
I was confused. "What do you mean?"  
  
She walked towards me slowly and leaned over, until her plump face filled my entire field of vision. "What have I spent the last seventeen years of my life telling you to say in the mornings?" she exploded. Flecks of her spittle hit me in the face like wet bullets.  
  
"Good morning, Aunt Marlene. Thank you for the breakfast," I muttered. She scowled and hurriedly walked back into the kitchen, her heels clicking on the floor. I picked up the tub of granola, poured myself some cereal, threw in a little fresh fruit and started eating. The smell of hot coffee wafted into the breakfast room, slowly driving me mad. I dropped my spoon into the empty cereal bowl and wandered into our huge kitchen. Stainless steel appliances made a cacophony of bleeps as I summoned down the coffee dispenser. The dark liquid hissed forth into a white polystyrene cup, playing an electronic melody when it was done.  
  
I glanced up at the clock; it was 8AM already! I downed the coffee in one, grabbed my computer bag and skateboard and ran out the door. My aunt's yells were following me down the street but I pretended not to hear her. I raced out of Hilldale and grabbed onto the back of a passing vehicle. Buildings and people whistled past in a blur of Friday morning colour and sound. The car missed my turning and I caught the tail of some rusty pickup, ducking down to make sure I wasn't seen. As the wind whipped through my short brown hair, a thrill of freedom coursed down my spine.  
  
People who've lived in this town a long time say I'm the female version of my grandpa, Marty McFly. He died when I was a kid, so I don't really remember him much. According to my father, it was some kind of freak accident. That totally appealed to me when I first found out; I'd spend hours holed up in my bedroom, making up games and writing stories about how he was a superhero or a spy, who died defending his country and got killed by some bad guy. The Adventures in Time and Space of Marty McFly was a comic book I read over and over. It was almost like my Bible. I still have all the old copies, tattered and dog-eared, with my six-year-old chicken scrawl in the speech bubbles and the painstaking faded frames, buried in the attic somewhere.  
  
Since I got to high school, I've talked to Grandpa Marty more than my mom. He understands stuff better, as though he actually remembers how tough it is to be a teenager. I can always get a straight answer out of him. He doesn't talk down to me or treat me like a child; he just listens and then gives me good sound advice. I wish he hadn't died so soon; I'd have liked to have known him in real life. But Anna, whose family are really religious, says that I'll see him again one day, and I like to believe her.  
  
I was so wrapped up in thoughts of my grandpa that I almost missed the turn- off for Hill Valley High School. As I pulled up outside the old building I glanced at my watch. 8:25 - made it, for once. I leapt off my board and stamped on the tail, sending it flying into the air. Just as I caught it and began to strap it onto my book bag, Anna and Leah's hoverboards ground to a halt on either side of me.  
  
"You still ridin' the old wheels?" There was more than a note of sarcasm in Leah's voice on the last word. She flicked her bright green hair, crossed her glittering eyes and stuck her tongue out at me. I responded likewise. Leah could be a bit mean at times, but she still made me laugh. She's always been the most daring of the gang; you only need to look at her to know that. The thing that makes me jealous is that her parents don't care about the way she acts, as long as she does her homework and chores and sticks to her curfew. I know my aunt would hit the roof if I came home looking like Leah. She already hates that I got my hair cut short. Sometimes I just want to grab a bottle of blue hair dye and get seven studs in one ear, just to see how much she'd freak out. It'd be pretty funny watching her almost have a coronary.  
  
Suddenly there were footsteps coming down the corridor towards the entrance. Mr Landstrick was approaching fast, clearly on patrol for latecomers. I could see the guy's head shining in the flickering hall lights. A horrible taste settled in my mouth. There was only one thing left that we could try, and I hoped to God it would work.  
  
"Quick! Hide!" I mouthed. I shoved the others roughly into a nearby hedge, ignoring their muffled yells, then darted in there with them. The leaves kept hitting me in the face and one branch caught me on the cheek. I bit back the word that was on the tip of my tongue. If Landstrick found me, that would be it. The blood from the cut was already starting to stick my fingers to my face. How was I going to explain this to my family? But I couldn't waste time worrying about that now. Already the greenery was tickling my nose. I choked back the urge to sneeze, my hearing at Defcon 5 to pick up the echo of Landstrick's approach.  
  
"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Anna's black-rimmed eyes were wide and scared. She clutched her books tighter to her chest. I wondered if she'd rather get in trouble than even think about breaking the rules. "I mean, I know Landstrick's got it in for you and all, Meg, but . . ." Her voice tailed off and she looked up at me like a lost puppy. I sighed heavily. She always knew exactly how to manipulate me into wrecking the plan. But not this time; I wasn't going to let myself get caught.  
  
"We should if you want to see graduation," I muttered through clenched teeth. The leaves were really bugging me now. I brushed them away from my face and revealed a gap in the hedge. All three of us leaned forward, peering out onto the courtyard of the school. I couldn't see Landstrick anywhere. "Maybe he's gone," I whispered. The seconds seemed to drag themselves out into an agonising wait. My nerves were torn to shreds as I started to nibble at my too-short nails, not realising what I was doing. After another moment of eerie silence, I beckoned to the others. "I think the coast's clear."  
  
Leah nodded at me forcefully, as though she wanted me to leave her alone. I noticed she had her hand over her nose and was breathing through her mouth. That could only mean one thing. Her allergies were acting up again, and she hadn't taken out her nose ring. "Oh, great," I muttered. This was all we needed. I leaned over towards Leah and turned her face to me. "How much longer can you hold it in?"  
  
"I don't . . ." Leah didn't have time to finish her sentence. She erupted with a sneeze that sent the hedge rustling like a paper bag. Anna and I flinched away with identical looks of disgust on our faces. Then Leah sneezed again, louder this time, and again. She couldn't stop! I glanced at Anna, who was biting her lower lip. She looked terrified. I could see my reflection in her eyes, and I knew I was wearing a similar expression. But it wasn't Leah's sneezing that was making me freak out. I could hear squeaking shoes on the linoleum floor of the corridor. Someone was running towards the entrance. The same shoes thundered down the front steps, then stopped for a moment. I wasn't thinking straight; my brain was way too mixed up to think of anything other than getting the others out of there. I didn't care about what my aunt was gonna say when I got home.  
  
"RUN!" I yelled at Anna. She stared at me for a second, then grabbed Leah's jacket sleeve and ran out from behind the hedge. A pair of polished brown lace-ups tore round the corner of the building after them. I was close enough to see the wearer's face reflected in the shoes. "Aw, jeez," I muttered - it was Landstrick! He'd been looking for an excuse to get me since I'd started at Hill Valley High. Rumour was that he'd been cryogenically frozen way back in the Noughts, just so he'd get the chance to terrorise every McFly who ever went to HVHS.  
  
I didn't have any choice. My feet seemed to be jet-powered as I shot out through the hedge, crashing into Landstrick and landing on top of him. The colour flooded out of my face as I realised what I'd done. Now I was gonna get it in the neck - twice! - for sure. I got to my feet quickly and glowered at Landstrick as he heaved his bulk off the ground. God, I hated that guy so much. All he ever did was put me down and claim I was just as worthless as the rest of my family. Grandpa Marty says the way to beat ignorant people is to outthink them, and the way to beat arrogant people is to appeal to that arrogance and use it against them, but it's the people who are ignorant and arrogant that are the toughest to deal with. And Landstrick was one of those people.  
  
I could feel the blood flowing to my hands as the desire to hit him rose from deep within me. Taking a deep breath, I looked down at the concrete path and shuffled my toe like a little kid. Best to play up the naïve innocent role as best I could; there was a slight chance it might work. I glanced up at him, sniffing a little.  
  
"Stop being so pathetic, Miss McFly." Landstrick's chilling voice was so sharp you could have sliced cucumber with it. "I know your little game, young lady. That's four tardies in a row, I believe. You're well on your way to beating your grandfather's record by now. He was a slacker too, just like your no-good father and your idiot great-grandfather. When your aunt was here I thought the females of your line might be different, but you've proved she was an anomaly.  
  
"I see you've entered that hoverboarding contest, Miss McFly, and the little Battle of the Bands thing. Why do you even bother? You've got about as much chance of winning either of those as a chicken has of learning to swim. No McFly has ever amounted to anything in the history of Hill Valley."  
  
"That's a lie." I didn't mean to say what I was thinking; it just came out. Besides, Landstrick had been asking for me to fight back for the last four years. My eyes flashed with white-hot rage as I looked him in the eye. His plump red face was rapidly going purple with anger. I could tell he was dying to explode. But I was on a roll now, and nothing was going to stop me.  
  
"Ever since there have been McFlys at this school, you've been putting them down." I didn't even pause for breath between sentences. "You treat us like we're nothing, like we don't deserve to exist. What did my family ever do to you to make you hate us so much?"  
  
"That's another story, young lady, and it doesn't concern you . . ." Landstrick began, but I cut him off before he could make his next comment.  
  
"And besides, there are McFlys who amounted to stuff in this place," I argued. "What about my great-grandpa and his novels? Doesn't that count as an achievement? What about my grandfather and his songwriting? What about my aunt when she went to Hollywood and got a job in the movie business?"  
  
"Your great-grandfather's books all flopped after that first one," said Landstrick in a poisonous voice. "Your grandfather was a failure in the end too. And as I recall, your aunt's career collapsed after your mother died and she got lumbered with you." I could feel hot tears spiking my eyes, but I shook my head, determined to shut him out. He wasn't going to have the satisfaction of seeing me upset. "And don't give me your family's standard line about how history is going to change. It never does, Miss McFly, and it's time you realised that." He ruffled my hair as though I was a kid. "Now run along and get to class. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be in any more trouble, would you now?"  
  
I stalked into the building, fuming inwardly. Landstrick was such a jerk! He made me feel as though I had a reputation that didn't exist. I wanted to kick the wall or a locker or something, just to vent my aggression. Then, as I walked through the door of my calculus class, I remembered what was in my book bag. I muttered an apology and slouched over to the only available seat, digging around for my computer as I sat down.  
  
"Hey." I looked up from opening the textbook file at the sound of a familiar voice. Sitting next to me was Jake Phillips, my best friend and next door neighbour since I was six. We'd stayed over at each other's houses, swapped packed lunches and trading cards, and tried our first cigarettes together and hated it. I suddenly felt a lot better about my day, even though I didn't know why.  
  
"Hi, Jake," I said under my breath, looking into his turquoise eyes. I couldn't make contact with them for more than three seconds or so; it was too dangerous. Swallowing heavily, I turned back to the board and pretended to be taking notes. Why was I screwing up our friendship so much? The question kept bugging me for the rest of the lesson and all through English class, swirling in my brain uncontrollably.  
  
I was thinking back to a time when Jake and I had kissed. It was weird, but ever since then I'd started to think about him in a different way sometimes. Of course, neither of us knew what we were doing back in seventh grade. It just sort of happened, the way that stuff does. And even though at first I was giggling and grossed out and it was like kissing my brother - that's how close Jake and I are - after a while it stopped being weird. It started to feel good. Sometimes, when I'm in the middle of something else, I get two conflicting images in my thoughts. There's Jake the guy who hid in my closet and played Space Zombies From Pluto with me, and Jake the guy with thick brown hair and soft lips. Just thinking about them made me want to kiss him again. I tried to put both visions out of my mind. But no matter what I did, they tickled and nagged and wouldn't go away.  
  
Besides, Jake can't be interested in me that way. He's going out with Jessica Tannen, the head cheerleader. I can sort of see why he'd choose her; she's the prettiest and most popular girl in the school. But why she wants Jake is a total mystery to me. It's totally unheard-of for a cheerleader to go out with a non-jock, especially someone who her parents hate, just because he drives a four-by-four and wears black all the time. She isn't right for him. All that bothers her is her hair and make-up and clothes. Jake actually cares about issues and art and literature. He needs to date a fellow troubled creative soul, someone who understands him and knows him . . . someone like me.  
  
Careful, Meg. There goes that imagination of yours again. Remember Aunt Marlene's always telling you that one day those crazy ideas will run away with you. Sometimes I wish she was right; that all my wild fantasies came true and I got out of this one-horse town. But even then I'd never be able to solve the mystery of why Jake stayed with Jessica.  
  
I was still thinking about this when I was walking through the halls after English. Suddenly someone barged past and knocked into my shoulder, sending my notebooks flying down the hallway. I knew who it was without even turning around. Jessica's over-made-up face was staring at me. About three seconds of silence passed before she spoke.  
  
"What are you looking at, butthead?" she spat. I didn't reply; my breath was too precious to waste on her. She bent down and picked up my computer- notebook. "I'm keeping this," she said, "because you were in my way - just like you always are." Her long golden blonde hair fell down past her shoulder blades, draping over the green and orange lettering on her white sweater. I wanted to yank chunks of those wavy locks out of her scalp - that was the payback I craved. She'd been hassling me since I started elementary school, just because of who we both were.  
  
"You finished that homework for me yet?" she asked aggressively. I shook my head, knowing she'd let me have it now. Jessica had been making me do all her work for her - another McFly-Tannen tradition - since the day we got assigned our first book reports. She raised her fist as though she was about to hit me. Then her hand fell back to her side and she rolled her eyes. I was so grateful she hadn't rearranged my face that I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off.  
  
"You're not worth the waste of energy, McFly. Get it to me first thing tomorrow," she said. "Not too early though. I've got a date tonight and I like to sleep in on Saturdays. Oh, by the way, your shoe's untied."  
  
I looked down and she smacked me on my cut cheek. The sting hurt like hell, but I knew that was just a light touch compared to what would have happened if she'd punched me. "Don't be so gullible, McFly," she said. I started to walk to my locker, determined to get out of the situation, but she stuck out her foot and I went sprawling on the floor. There was a sudden bleeping melody echoing down the corridor and Jessica pulled her videophone goggles from her bag. She strapped them on and began talking. I couldn't hear what she was saying; probably telling her cronies about this stupid date and how she just got one over on that little nerd Meg McFly. The computer she'd taken fell from her hand and span across the linoleum, coming to a halt at my feet.  
  
I glared at her back with pure, unbridled fury as I picked up the computer. Needing to let off some steam, I stormed over to my locker and punched in the code on the keypad. There was a few seconds' pause, and then the door opened with a hiss. "Welcome, Megan McFly," a computerised voice said by way of greeting. I reached inside, instinctively knowing where the thing I wanted was. It was a small journal with denim patterns printed on the cover. Everyone in school snubbed those kind of books; they all thought the standard issue sleek silver computers were better. But I secretly liked the old-fashioned way of writing, with paper and pen. I slammed the locker door shut and went out onto the steps. The milky autumn light shone down on me, mocking my dark mood. I sat down with a heavy sigh, flipped open the notebook, dated the page and began to write.  
  
Grandpa Marty:  
  
Well, it happened again. Jessica made me look like an idiot (thank God Jake wasn't around this time), and I couldn't do anything about it. I don't get it. I must have about a hundred times her brainpower, but she gets the better of me every time despite being a complete airhead.  
  
And the worst thing is she's with Jake. That just kills me. I don't think she even really likes him. She just treats him like a trophy or something. Like since she's the most popular girl in the whole school, she deserves to have the best looking guy and everything. But when it comes down to it, he's just there to make her look good. Jessica Tannen couldn't love anyone as much as she loves herself.  
  
Jake has to know that; he must do. So why does he even like her? Why does he put up with her? He deserves so much better.  
  
Grandpa, you know I hardly ever ask favours of you. But maybe next time you and Mom are sitting around shooting the breeze with God, do you think you might mention Jessica and ask for some divine intervention? Nothing extraordinary or fancy; a hundred-pound anvil maybe. Actually make it five hundred pounds. She probably wouldn't feel anything less with her thick skull.  
  
In short, whatever it takes. Any strings you could pull that might provide a little justice, a bit of balance, would be greatly appreciated.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The final bell rolled around before I knew it. I raced out of my last class and down the corridor towards the gym. My guitar was in my locker, so I stopped by quickly to get that. I skidded to a halt before it . . . and my mind went blank. I'd totally forgotten my combination! Let's see, let's see - think, Meg, think. I'd already been stressing out over the audition so much that this was the last thing I needed right now. And the more I panicked, the more frustrated I got with myself, and the more unable I was to remember the code.  
  
"Sixteen, twenty-one, eight."  
  
I turned to see Jake standing behind me, his eyes twinkling. "Thanks," I said, not looking at him as I typed in the numbers. The door swung open and I reached in for the guitar. It was a second-hand baby-blue Fender that I'd seen in a music shop during my sophomore summer. I had wanted it so much I'd worked two jobs to save up enough money for it. Ever since then I've been teaching myself how to play.  
  
Suddenly I felt Jake's arms wrap round my shoulders in a tight bear hug. "Good luck today," he whispered. I could feel his warm sweet breath ruffling my hair. "Not that you need it; I just know you'll do great." He tweaked my earlobe playfully and sauntered out of the building, his worn leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. I watched in silence as he got into his old black Toyota four-by-four and roared off down the road, soaring into the stratosphere in seconds. I was feeling nine ways at once as I waited for my heart to stop pounding.  
  
A pair of junior girls walked back, giggling and pointing. I wondered what they found amusing for a moment. As I turned to get the bass, I caught sight of myself in a stainless steel locker. My jaw was practically at my feet and I could see a crust of drool on my cheek. God, I looked a total mess. No wonder I couldn't get Jake; I'd been so caught up in thinking about him that I hadn't even noticed. I picked up the guitar and took off in the direction of the gym.  
  
The others were already on stage when I arrived, breathless and panting. "What happened to you?" asked Dylan from behind the drums. I shrugged and muttered some excuse under my breath. The three guys just nodded their acceptance and turned back to their instruments. I'd been playing with the English Pigs since the beginning of the school year, but I never felt as though I belonged. As I checked that I was in tune, my eyes scanned the four watching judges: three men and a women, all in their late twenties or early thirties. I swallowed, feeling the way I always did about playing in front of people I didn't know. Terrified.  
  
Ryan, the bassist, muttered the band's name into the mike and struck the first note. We were playing an old rock ballad called The Power Of Love. It had been my idea to use it as our audition track; I'd been crazy about the record ever since the first time I heard it. Gradually, as we grew more confident with the song, our playing improved. I glanced up at the judges, who seemed to be enjoying it, and felt sure we had it in the bag. Just as I began to really get lost in the music, I hit one of the strings too hard. There was a horrible twanging sound as it snapped in two. My face worked its way through the entire collection of reds in the paint shop as the others turned away from me. I felt like crying. The gig I'd wanted so much was slipping away from me, and I couldn't do anything about it.  
  
"Have you got any spare strings?" whispered Mark. I shook my head without turning round. Why did I always screw everything up? I knew one rejection wasn't the end of the world, but it didn't stop me being angry with myself. The judges watched in stony silence as, one by one, the other instruments died away. Part of me wanted to throw down my guitar and just storm out. I looked down at the stage, knowing what was coming next.  
  
"I'm sorry, guys," said the main judge as he stood up, "but if you can't be organised enough to prepare for something like this happening, I'm not sure you'll be reliable enough to play at the dance. Sorry." The guy's voice was a bit kinder on the second 'Sorry', as if he really was. Wordlessly we gathered up our instruments and trailed off stage. I could see the looks of defeat in the others' downcast eyes. Something told me that I could kiss playing in the English Pigs goodbye after this.  
  
I was so mad that I didn't even skateboard home. Best to walk it off and avoid my aunt for as long as possible. I slouched through Courthouse Square, watching the tired old buildings sag in the late October afternoon sun. Everywhere seemed bored and annoyed - unless that was just me transferring my own bad mood to my surroundings. I had to get out of here, and there was only one place I could go to. My pace slowly quickened as my high-tops pounded the pavement, instinctively carrying me to my destination. Several people on the street turned to watch me running past in surprise; kids never ran anywhere in 2045. They all travelled by hoverboard or flying car.  
  
Before I knew it, I'd reached Oak Park Cemetery. I walked reverently down the path towards it. Graveyards always gave me the creeps; I never really felt safe there until I got to where I was going. I speeded up unconsciously, thinking that if I hurried maybe I wouldn't disturb anybody else. The family plot wasn't too far from the entrance, underneath an old maple tree by the river. I walked over to it, looking at the headstones. The first ones I saw were George McFly and Lorraine Baines McFly, my great- grandparents. I said hey to them and scoured the rest of my ancestors' names. And then I spotted the inscription I was looking for.  
  
MARTIN SEAMUS McFLY, BELOVED HUSBAND, FATHER AND GRANDFATHER. My grandpa. As if eight words could even come close to summing him up. I knelt down beside the grey stone and ran my fingers over the letters, my hand over my eyes. The silence that fell over the cemetery was deafening. I didn't speak; instead I willed my thoughts into the headstone, praying that he'd be able to hear me. How long I waited there, I don't know, but it wasn't long enough to get an answer. Maybe he was a little too busy right then. I shivered against the unusually bitter wind that suddenly whipped through the grass, pulling my old parka tighter around me. My hand reached into my pocket for my notebook before I realised what I was doing. Leave it, Meg; that can wait. I had all the time in the world to talk to him. But right now homework and dinner were calling me, and I couldn't avoid them - unless I wanted to be stuck in the house all weekend. I sniffled a little as I got up and turned back down the path.  
  
I wasted the rest of that day on homework, dinner and TV. But something was stopping me from concentrating on even the most trivial things. I could feel myself wandering into daydreams over pages of French verbs and Pythagorean theorems. My focus wasn't with me. Maybe I was still stressed out over my failed audition, or I'd let Landstrick get to me too much that morning. Whatever it was, it was pulling me away from reality. I went to bed that night feeling dazed and confused. Something must have happened to me when I'd been in that cemetery, but what? I had an eerie feeling settling in me, some unknown intuition that told me big changes were going. I just didn't realise how big they would be back then. 


	2. A Curious Thing

Disclaimer: I do not own Back To The Future or its characters. Characters from the films are copyright Universal Studios and U-Drive Productions. All other characters are my own creation and may not be used without permission.  
  
Blind Spot: Yes, Landstrick is actually Strickland. As for why certain characters aren't alive, my theory is George and Lorraine didn't believe in the idea of rejuvenation clinics. Biff is still alive in my BTTF universe (although I don't know if he'll appear in this story) and as for Marty.you'll have to keep reading to find out ;-)  
  
Anakin McFly: I don't know if guitar strings can break by being hit too hard (they can if you over-tune the guitar), but my friend broke a string on her violin in a similar way and I think they're made out of the same kind of stuff. By the way, your fics are excellent!  
  
Stoko and Kat: Thanks for your reviews!  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
I woke up the next morning feeling different. There was no other way to explain it; it was just a normal Saturday to everybody else in the house. But normally on the weekend I'd have wanted to hole up in my room, watching lousy holo-videos and pretending to be studying for a test set by one or other of my teachers. That day I didn't even hit the snooze button. I jumped out of bed and ran into my bathroom, only stopping to type a few requirements for clothes into my computerised wardrobe. Part of me wanted to sing as I prepared to face the day. I could feel something stirring deep within me, the same as when I was really little and got swallowed up by old adventure stories.  
  
My aunt looked surprised at my enthusiasm as I raced through the breakfast room. An eagerness to get all my chores out of the way had made me oblivious to the smell of food. Usually I hate doing that stuff; even though most of the place can sort itself out, I still seemed to get lumbered with all the jobs on the weekend. It seemed like no time at all had passed once I'd finished my whirlwind cleaning-up session. I grabbed my skateboard and was about to take off to Courthouse Square when I felt a hand on my shoulder.  
  
"Where do you think you're going, young lady?"  
  
I resisted the temptation to fold my arms and glare. My aunt was standing behind me, a look of slight shock on her face. When I turned round, she let go and returned to her usual expression of disapproval. "You're staying home until all your chores are finished. That's the rule."  
  
"But they are finished." I began, wondering what she'd cooked up for me now. Maybe she was still in a bad mood because I was late home last night. Often when my aunt got annoyed with me, I got made to waste my weekend on the worst jobs of the lot. Like the time I went camping with the girls and forgot to call her, I spent the rest of my summer scrubbing toilets. Nothing could be as bad as that. I changed my tone and spoke in a light voice. "I'm sorry, Aunt Marlene. What did I forget to do?"  
  
"That attic needs clearing out," she said. I must have looked up in exasperation, because she snapped, "Don't roll your eyes at me, Megan! Now get that job done, or else it's no TV, no videophone, no Internet and certainly no friends for a month!" She turned around and headed back into the kitchen, muttering under her breath and slamming the door behind her.  
  
I didn't want to have to go up into the stupid attic. Why couldn't Dad do some stuff at home for a change? But he'd gone out fishing and wouldn't be back until later, so it was just me and my aunt. And when she threatened to ground me, she meant it. I guess there was nothing I could do but get on with it. Still, I could feel myself beginning to lose my temper as I violently kicked my skateboard across the hallway. My stamping footsteps echoed on the stairs like gunshots.  
  
I reached the second floor and looked up for the hole in the ceiling that led to the attic. "Ladder down," I said in a monotone. The long mass of silver rungs unfurled from the hatch with a drawn-out creak; it clearly hadn't been used for a while. I waited until it had locked itself into position and began to climb.  
  
Inside the attic was pitch black. "Lights on," I said. There was no response from the voice sensors. "Lights on!" I repeated, my voice growing edgy. The halogen tubes overhead flickered briefly, then settled to a soft glow. Knowing my luck, my aunt would make me fix those some time soon. I glanced around the enormous room, letting my eyes get used to the gloom. The place was crammed full of junk. I had to navigate the floorboards carefully; they were white with age and weakened with the weight piled on top of them. My nostrils filled with the inch-thick layer of dust that had settled over everything. I choked on my coughing and began to pick through the heap of stuff; cracked and broken records, a PlayStation 4 I'd blown up one Christmas, various temperamental appliances that had short-circuited.  
  
Time slowed to a crawl, losing all meaning. I began to think I could stuff the trash bags in my sleep. There seemed to be a gradual build-up of rubbish behind me as I worked my way towards the back of the attic. Right now, my friends were probably crashing the mall and having fun laughing at popular kids, while here I was stuck cleaning somewhere that hadn't seen the light of day for twenty years! I sighed and reached over to grab for an old brown envelope when I tripped over something.  
  
"Ow!" I yelled as I hit the floorboards, which let out a worrying creak. I got back up into a crouching position and turned to see what had made me fall. It was an absolutely gorgeous guitar. I picked it up gingerly, terrified that it might crumble to dust in my hands, and absentmindedly hit one of the strings. The note vibrated through the attic, fading into nothing after what seemed like an age. Seriously cool. "Rock and roll," I said, unable to suppress my grin. This would be the perfect retro replacement for my Fender until I could get it fixed.  
  
I was about to put the guitar back down when I noticed something on the back. A heart had been carved into the paint on the left hand-side next to the neck. Inside it was written 'MM + JP'. For a moment I wondered who they were. Maybe my dad had had a girlfriend with those initials back when he was a kid, or perhaps the guitar had been my aunt's. No, she wouldn't have played something like this. It was too old to have belonged to either of them.  
  
Wait a minute.wasn't Grandma Jennifer's maiden name Parker? Of course, it must have been my Grandpa Marty's! I felt all warm and fuzzy inside for a moment, thinking it was cute how long they'd been together, then a pang of jealousy as I thought about what was going on in my head. No, how could I think that? I shook my head to get rid of my bad thoughts and carried on with the job. The package I'd been trying to get hold of had fallen on top of a heap of trash bags, so I was able to get to it more easily. I pulled it towards me and blew the dust off the top, wondering whether or not it was important.  
  
The writing on the front read, 'To Meg McFly. Not to be opened until after you find the guitar.' I smiled a little, recognising the handwriting. But I still didn't know what I was going to find here. For a moment I thought of opening the parcel, but then put it back. It would be more fun if I waited a little while. The sooner I got this job out of the way, the sooner I could get my hands on the prize.  
  
It seemed to take forever to finish getting all the stuff out of the attic. I wanted to jack it in several times just so I could open the envelope, but I knew I couldn't. My aunt would go crazy if she found out I'd been slacking. A month of being grounded was definitely not the most appealing way to spend time, especially so soon after the star of my senior year. Eventually, after what felt like an age, I threw the last bag into the trash can and ran back upstairs. Once I was inside my bedroom I set the door lock. No-one was going to disturb me now. I hugged the envelope tightly to my chest for a second and then slowly pulled the flap open, watching the sticky glue fronds stretch and snap. Just as I was about to break the last one, I realised what a huge step I might be about to take. Whatever was in here could change my life.  
  
I tried to get rid of those thoughts, telling myself that I worried too much. But I couldn't take the suspense any longer. My hands reached out and ripped open the package before I could do anything to stop the impulse. A black cuboid fell onto the bed as I shook the envelope upside down. I looked at it for a few seconds, wondering what it was. We didn't have anything like that these days. Maybe I should go ask my aunt. No, knowing her she'd confiscate it and I'd never see it again. I stuck my hand into the parcel, trying to see if there was anything else inside. My fingers curled tightly around something and I drew it out slowly, holding my breath in case it was something really major. It wasn't; just a scrap of paper with a familiar scribble of my name on it. I unfurled the neatly folded note and read:  
  
This is something called a video tape. They've been obsolete since the Noughts. Go back up into the attic and you'll find a small TV with a black box underneath it. Put the tape in the slot that's in the front of the black box and hit play.  
  
I re-folded the note and stuffed the video tape underneath my jacket. Creeping out onto the landing like a thief in the night, I glanced around wildly to check my aunt wasn't watching. "Ladder down," I said again, my voice surprising me with its breathiness. The silver ladder descended once again in response. My feet were moving a lot faster when I climbed up this time; perhaps it was because something in me was desperate to find out what was on this video tape.  
  
The TV with the black box was right at the back of the attic, balanced precariously on top of some rickety-looking book shelves. It was intriguing to find a new appliance that I hadn't seen before. I walked over to it and peered at the back of it, wondering how much rewiring it would take to have this hooked up to play holo-videos. Then I remembered what had happened and slapped myself lightly on the wrist. No more messing with electrical stuff, Megan, not after what happened back then.  
  
I shoved the tape into the slot, pressed the button and settled down on top of a heap of threadbare cushions that had belonged to some ancestor of ours from two hundred years ago. This wasn't going to be like the movies I'd watched on holo-DVD at Jake's house; I wasn't even sure if the tale would have a happy ending. But however the story turned out, I had an uneasy feeling that I was going to have a major part in it.and I didn't know if I wanted that.  
  
The screen flickered for a second and then an old guy with crazy white hair appeared on screen. He was dressed in a white radiation suit and spoke very quickly. I had to play the tape five times before I actually understood what he was saying.  
  
"Good evening, I'm Doctor Emmett Brown. I'm standing on the parking lot of Twin Pines Mall. It's Saturday morning, October 26th 1985, 1:18 AM and this is temporal experiment number one."  
  
I watched silently as the tape spiralled on before my eyes. The old dude shut his dog in a silver car, holding up a pair of clocks to the camera before this, and then sent the creature ahead in time. As the vehicle's speed climbed to eighty-eight miles per hour, I began to wonder what the point of this was. Then I found out. The car disappeared in a blue glow, leaving trails of flame behind it, and reappeared a minute later with the dog's clock a minute behind the scientist guy's. A few seconds later, the screen faded to black.  
  
I sat and stared open-mouthed for what seemed like forever. Was this true? I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I mean, I'd heard about some crazy inventions in the last seventeen years, but this one took the entire bakery. If it was real.my mind was going out of control with possibilities. This would make history projects so much easier, if nothing else. But something made me feel a bit suspicious. It seemed too weird, too much like something from a comic book or a science fiction movie. Or my scepticism could get the better of me, like it usually did when I was proved wrong. After all, we'd already got humans to Mars, cloned extinct animals and made brain stimulation a training technique. How far off was time travel?  
  
Suddenly there was a crackle of static on the TV. It flickered a couple of times to reveal what looked like a teenager's bedroom. I was curious; when had this bit of film been shot? Judging by the rock band posters on the wall, it wasn't too recently. I squinted in a vain attempt to make out any details that might help, but had no luck. There was a momentary pause as someone adjusted the camera, and then a teenage guy walked around to face the lens and sat down on the end of the bed. He looked strangely familiar.  
  
"Hey, Megan." He grinned in a confident but not arrogant way. "Recognise me? It's your Grandpa Marty here, talking to you all the way from 1985. If you're watching this I guess you've seen the footage of Einstein in the DeLorean. I don't know how to explain this to you, but everything you watched was real. And it's the reason why I'm talking to you now.  
  
"I'm not sure how or why, but the time machine is linked to your destiny in some way. It's important that you get your hands on it as soon as possible in order to find out what that is - even though the Doc says not to know too much about what happens in the future." He winked at me and I couldn't help smiling back.  
  
"What you have to do is find two brothers called Jules and Verne Brown. They're the sons of an old friend of mine, Doctor Emmett Brown - the guy you saw on the tape. Last time I checked they were still living in Hill Valley, at 1646 John F Kennedy Drive. I'm guessing they'd be fairly old men now, but you need them to help you. They're the only ones who know where the time machines are and how they work. After that it's up to you.  
  
"Whatever happens, you're the best granddaughter I could have asked for. No matter what you do and where you go, I'm always going to be there for you. And I know you're sorry.even though you don't have to be. But I guess nobody's ever going to convince you any differently. Good luck, Meg. Love you always." He waved and reached over to turn the camera off.  
  
The film had left me choked up. How could he be so nice to me after what I'd done to him? I was the worst granddaughter in the history of the world. Something about this gave me an uneasy feeling; why did my grandpa want me to fix the time machine? Did he have some kind of plan for my life? I knew I didn't want to get involved in this, but I had to if I was going to fulfil that scheme. Well, the sooner I got this out of the way the better. Maybe once I'd fulfilled his last wishes I could concentrate on what was important: my love life, or lack of it. I wondered if my grandpa had similar problems when he was chasing Grandma Jennifer.  
  
Of course! That was it; Grandma Jennifer would help me out over this time travel thing. I hadn't called on her in a while anyway. There was an uneasy guilt settling over me - the same guilt I felt whenever I looked at Jake - as I remembered this fact, but I shook it off. She wouldn't mind if I dropped by for coffee and girl-talk. To be honest, I kind of missed our weekly chats now that they'd petered out over the summer. Maybe now was a good time to get back in the habit. I grabbed my skateboard from its corner, ran down the stairs and headed out the door.  
  
After the accident, Grandma moved back into the house my grandfather had lived in as a teenager, over on the Lyon Estates. She says it makes her feel more in tune with his spirit. I don't believe all that stuff, but it makes her happier so I play along with it when I visit her. As I raced around the corner, I called her on my pocket phone. She said of course she didn't mind if I dropped by and I was more than welcome to come over any time. Sometimes I wonder whether she really wants to see me, or if she just feels she has to because of who I am. If I were her, I wouldn't want to hang out with someone who'd done what I had.  
  
I jumped off the skateboard as I pulled up outside the house - a typical Californian 1950s one-level. Grandma stood in the doorway smiling at me. Secretly I thought the years hadn't been too kind to her - she looked a little more lined than when I last saw her - but I didn't let it show. I ran up the path to her and gave her a tight hug. She laughed as she gently eased me away from her and looked into my face. I was reluctant to let go, wanting to remain breathing in the warm soapy smell of her apron.  
  
"Lands sakes, child! I declare, you're getting taller by the minute," she clucked. I was used to this old routine after so long, but smiled wanly to let her know I still appreciated the comment. She walked into the living room, still chatting away and asking me questions, like how my dad was and if my aunt was alright and was school going OK. I gave my usual monosyllabic answers, not really concentrating on either talking to her or making the coffee. What mattered to me right then was getting as much information as I could.  
  
"So," Grandma Jennifer said as I set down the tray of coffee and biscuits, "what did you want to talk to me about, Meg?"  
  
I looked up at her with an expression of mock surprise on my face. She smiled knowingly in reply. "You've got that look on your face like Marty always did when he had something on his mind. There's no point trying to hide it; I've known you for too long. What's up?"  
  
I sighed inwardly; she'd given me no choice but to tell all. When I'd finished explaining what had happened, she nodded thoughtfully. "I remember something really vague about a time machine," she said slowly, as though trying to recall a long-distant memory, "way back when I was your age. But it all seems like I dreamt it now. I'm sorry, Meg honey, but I just can't help you. What I suggest you do is what your grandfather told you to - go find the Browns. Other than that, all I can say is good luck. I think you're gonna need it."  
  
I forced a grin. "Thanks, Grandma," I said. A sudden impulse rose up in me and I gave her a quick tight hug. She seemed surprised at first, and then hugged me back. I think she knew I might have been about to cry.  
  
"I don't care what you think, Meg," she said. "It wasn't your fault; you didn't do anything wrong. The Lord saw fit to take your grandpa from us and that's all there is to it. Now stop feeling like you're a bad person and go do what you have to." I nodded and left her house without another word, feeling the white-hot tears prick my eyes.  
  
The journey over to JFK Drive was over so quickly I almost bypassed the house. 1646 was an old broken-down garage that seemed to have once been part of a huge house. Now all the land had been bought up by a burger chain. For a moment I almost thought about going to grab something to eat - anything to put off confronting the possibility of a time machine. No, I couldn't do that to my grandpa. It wouldn't be right. I turned away from the fast food place and walked up to the entry-phone, peering at the building through the chain-link gate. The place seemed to have been abandoned years ago, but there was an atmosphere about it that made me reluctant to leave.  
  
I took a deep breath and pressed my thumb against the sensor. There was a bleep and a voice came out of the speaker. It sounded a little like the old guy I'd heard on the video tape. "Hi, Meg, come on in. Verne and I are waiting for you." I wondered how these guys knew my name, but forgot it almost instantly. The gate swung open with a drawn-out creak and I walked down the path like someone from Elizabethan times on the way to their execution.  
  
When I reached the garage, I knocked tentatively on the door. There was a click as it opened to reveal an old guy with a shock of long receding white hair dressed in a lab coat. "You must be Megan," he said, offering a hand that looked like it was made of brown paper. "I'm Jules Brown, and this is my brother Verne." He gestured towards a guy who looked like his slightly younger twin. I shook Jules' hand warmly and nodded a greeting in Verne's direction. Already these two seemed pretty cool. I had a good feeling about working on this project with them. It had been ten years since I'd even touched any car circuitry - I'd always loved taking things apart and figuring out how they worked, but the accident had made me stop all that - so I knew I'd be a little rusty. Still, the Browns looked like good teachers.  
  
"OK," I said, rubbing my hands together in anticipation. "So where's this DeLorean then?" 


	3. Strong And It's Sudden

Disclaimer: I do not own Back To The Future or its characters. Characters from the films are copyright Universal Studios and U-Drive Productions. All other characters are my own creation and may not be used without permission.  
  
Stoko: You're sort of right. All will be revealed at some point soon.  
  
Anakin McFly: Thanks for your review!  
  
Jamie McFly: Thanks for your review. All I can say is keep reading to find out.  
  
Blind Spot: It's the Eastwood Ravine 2045, I'll explain later, and yes but it's not the main reason.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Saturday October 29th 2045, Hill Valley, California  
  
There was an excited look in Jules' eyes, like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. I guess he must have been pretty thrilled to be working on a project that his father had spent most of his life dealing with. He beckoned to me with a long bony finger and walked slowly towards the far corner of the garage. I followed him tentatively, wary of what I was about to encounter. All around me clocks kept a steady rhythm, marking time's eternal passage. I stopped to admire one with a little guy hanging from the minute hand.  
  
The thing that Jules was gazing at with wonder was covered by a ragged and faded brown sheet. I could hear a faint whining noise coming from beneath it. Verne whistled and clicked his tongue. "Franklin!" he called. "Come on out, boy! Come say hello to Megan!" There was a snuffling and scrabbling, and then a round wet black nose poked out between the folds of the blanket. Slowly the scruffy brown mongrel emerged, inching forward in a sort of bow. He was wagging his feathery tail enthusiastically when he saw me. "I guess he likes you already," said Verne with a half-smile. I nodded and bent down to stroke the dog.  
  
"Megan," said Jules in hushed, almost reverent tones, "I give you my father's DeLorean." He whipped back the sheet like a magician revealing that his assistant has disappeared from the box. My eyes travelled over the car, not believing what I was seeing. The thing was totally and utterly destroyed - no more than just fragments. It was going to need some serious fixing. I decided I'd better listen closely to what Jules and Verne told me to do, unless of course I wanted Grandpa Marty's fate to befall me. Poetic justice, as Jessica would say. Still, I had to admit, it was a pretty cool way to travel through time . . . if we could get it working again.  
  
Ever since I was about three, I've been obsessed with figuring out how stuff works. I used to waste hours taking old things apart and trying to put them back together. As I got older, I'd add in different components to see if I could get the stuff to do extra things. I think I spent most of my junior high school career trashing every toaster I could get my hands on in the hope that I could finally figure out how to put a twenty second time delay between the slices popping. But it was when I was around five that I started getting into messing about with cars.  
  
For the most part, my grandpa had taught me what to do. He'd help me work on each little bit at a time, giving me instructions and guiding me through the stages of unscrambling the electrics. But then that day came - that awful day. Ever since then I wake up every morning and wish I could turn back the clock . . .  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Saturday October 27th 2035, Hill Valley, California  
  
"Well done, Meg!" Marty gave his granddaughter the thumbs-up as the car juddered into life. Slowly the seven-year-old girl crawled out from beneath the vehicle and grinned back at him, wiping her grimy hands on her worn overalls. Her red T-shirt was smeared with blobs of oil and grease. She dragged the back of her hand across her face and stared silently at the streaky black dirt that covered it. For a moment he almost thought he could see her glowing inwardly with pride. He opened the black station wagon's driver door and reached out to ruffle her short brown hair. She gazed up at him with huge puppy-dog eyes. God, people were right when they said she was his spitting image. "We'll make a little mechanic out of you yet!" he said with a chuckle. She threw her arms around his waist and hung out like she would never let go, her head buried in his stomach.  
  
Marty remembered the first day he'd introduced Megan to working on cars. It had been just after her fifth birthday and she'd dropped one of her new toys down the stairs. Of course it had broken and, after a telling-off from Marlene and several attempts by MJ, it had stayed stuck that way. A couple of hours later, he'd found her sitting in her bedroom taking it apart piece by piece. She was concentrating so hard, determined to fix it. He'd watched her for a few minutes, and then shown her how to figure out cars. They'd slowly progressed through the more major stuff, working together on each section. It had been fun spending time with her, listening to her eager chatter. He'd told her about what had happened with the DeLorean and Doc fifty years ago (was it really that long?), but she just thought he'd made it up. It was probably for the best . . . let her keep her innocence, she wouldn't let herself get it back soon.  
  
"Ready for another project?" he asked. Meg nodded eagerly, her eyes shining. He crossed the garage and whipped a sheet off the family car. Megan looked at him with wide scared eyes, her breath catching in her throat. She was a little afraid of tampering with something so important, just in case there was a horrible setback. Marty crouched down and Meg copied him, tilting her head to one side as she listened intently.  
  
"The carburettor's blown," he explained. "I think you're ready to have a go at doing something like this on your own now. Don't worry, all the parts are on the bench and I'll be here to help you if you need it - not that you will." He gave her a cheeky grin that made him look suddenly younger. Just as he stood up, the door swung back and hit the wall with a thud.  
  
"Hey, Dad, I made you some . . ." Marlene stood in the doorway with a chipped white mug in one hand and the cordless videophone in the other. Her eyes rested on Meg for a moment and she tutted. "Will you look at that girl! She's completely and utterly filthy. Megan, go change your clothes this minute!" Marty glanced at Meg and she rolled her eyes, her mouth flapping in imitation. He stifled the urge to laugh. The kid was quite the little comedienne when she wanted to be. Would that laughter leave her after what was going to happen?  
  
"Ah, leave her alone, Marlene." Marty waved a hand idly at his daughter. "She's just a kid, it's her prerogative to cover her clothes in dirt. Besides, you nag her too much. Let her have a little fun. She's only young once." Secretly he was a little glad that Marlene wasn't actually Megan's mother; he had the feeling she would have been unbearable. As it was, he had to admit she'd made sacrifices for the girl. Marlene's acting career had just been about to take off when Lucy died and she was under pressure to come back to Hill Valley. Sometimes he caught his daughter looking at the little seven-year-old with an expression of disgust. Sadness jolted through him as he wondered if Marlene would hate Meg even more after what was going to happen.  
  
"Anyway," Marlene said, "there's a phone call for you." Marty turned to Megan and made an O out of his thumb and index finger. She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out, focussed on copying him perfectly. He'd missed out on this stuff when MJ and Marlene were little, what with his career as a musician and having to travel so much. It had been that which had led to his marriage almost breaking up . . . almost. Every day he was grateful that he'd had the sense to quit while he was ahead - grateful that he was still with Jennifer and had a second chance at being a decent parent. Marty stood up and walked towards Marlene to take the call. The garage door swung shut with a bang behind him, leaving Meg alone.  
  
The little girl's heart was racing. She'd never done anything like this on her own before. Thoughts of what would happen if she messed up flashed into her head - horrible shouts and sobbing, the squeal of breaks, the sounds of metal colliding, tearing, crumpling like paper . . . "Stop it," she said in a loud clear voice, as if trying to curb her imagination. She giggled nervously and took a few deep breaths. Her grandpa had worked on cars hundreds of times, and she'd helped him out with a few. How hard could fixing one carburettor be? She reached out for the tools on the bench and thought about what to do. It came back to her instantly and she set about the work with gusto, soon completely lost, until she reached a certain point. She couldn't remember what she had to adjust to fit the new part. Just as the garage door creaked open she made a snap decision and slotted the part into place.  
  
"Hey!" Marty laughed as Meg jumped up and backed away from the car. "Don't worry, you'll have done great. Let's see . . ." He crouched down and peered at the car's workings. "Yeah, she's ready to go. I told you that you'd be OK on your own!" He watched her face light up in that goofy little smile she had. For a brief moment he glanced at the battered digital watch he'd had since he was a kid. 11 AM . . . The time rang a bell. Of course - it was Meg's first karate class at 11 AM today! Without warning he grabbed her wrist and dragged her over to the car. He had completely forgotten about what was going to happen to them both. "Come on!" he said, not meaning to sound so over-urgent. "We're going to be late!" As he turned the ignition and drove out of the garage, neither of them noticed the tiny drops of brake fluid that were falling from beneath the vehicle.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Saturday October 29th 2045, Hill Valley, California  
  
". . . and we've been working on this destination locator so we don't have to stay in Hill Valley when we travel through time. You just key in the latitude and longitude of where you want to go and . . ." Jules had become so wrapped up in talking about the time machine that he hadn't noticed my silence. I was gazing into space with a dreamy look, not focussed on what he was saying. He reached out and gently shook my shoulder. "Meg? Are you OK?" I blinked suddenly and my body snapped back into a state of concentration. Seemingly satisfied with my nod of acknowledgement, Jules carried on his explanation. I tried to pay attention but part of me knew it wasn't working. Somehow the events of ten years ago kept coming back to haunt me.  
  
Over the next few weeks or so I got to know Jules and Verne pretty well. They told me about their early lives in the Old West, back in the 1880s, and about how a guy called Clint Eastwood defeated one of the Tannens in a gun fight to save their father, Emmett Brown. It sounded strangely familiar . . . and totally cool. I'd always loved history classes and that time period had always been a big fantasy of mine when I was little. Just listening to the brothers talk brought back thoughts of Jake and I dressing up in oversized ponchos and Stetsons that covered our eyes and having fake shoot-outs. I suddenly realised how much I missed being a kid. Maybe with the time machine I could rediscover my lost youth.  
  
It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving when we finished the DeLorean. I'd been heading over to Kennedy Drive every day after school and staying well past dinner to have it ready. It seemed to fill the hole in my life that I hadn't healed since my grandpa died. I wondered why his death had hit me so hard. Maybe it was my guilt because I didn't fix the car up right; maybe it was because he was more of a dad to me than my real father ever was. After Mom died, my father threw himself into his dead-end job. I think he spent all hours at the office because that way he didn't have to come back to a house full of bad memories. He hardly ever went out on the weekends and he never had another romantic relationship that I knew about. It must have affected him pretty badly to lose someone who was obviously the love of his life.  
  
I was so mixed up in my own thoughts that I barely noticed Verne making the finishing touches to the time machine. It hissed loudly as he slammed the car door shut, making me jump. I really had to stop letting myself get so easily distracted. Franklin barked loudly as the two brothers high-fived; even though they were well into their sixties, sometimes they still acted like little kids. Was I going to be that way when I was older? I let the thought go, knowing it didn't do much good to dwell on the future - or the past.  
  
"OK, Meg," said Jules with a grin, "take her for a test spin!" I opened the door of the DeLorean and climbed in, switching the time circuits on. The display lit up almost instantly and I took in the Last Time Departed: September 7th 1885. So all the stories I'd heard from my grandpa about the old days in Hill Valley were true! A jolt of nervous energy shot through my veins, sending a delicious tingling down my spine. I swallowed in an attempt to quench my dry throat. Verne slammed the door shut, leaving me trapped inside the DeLorean. Now I knew how canned vegetables must feel: it was really claustrophobic.  
  
From the corner of my eye I watched Jules and Verne opening the garage doors, my heart slamming against my ribs like a wild animal in a too-small cage. I tried to remember what Jake had told me about starting cars, but it was no use. "Aw, what the hell," I said under my breath and slammed my foot down on the accelerator. It was all I could do to stop myself screaming out loud as the car leapt forward. The brothers' shouts of encouragement were totally lost to me. I kept my face locked in a grimace, my eyes screwed up so I wouldn't have to see myself go through the time barrier.  
  
The DeLorean tore down JFK Drive, which was mercifully deserted. I guessed a lot of people must have been spending the weekend with their families. As the car climbed into the sky, I glanced at the speedometer. In a flash the landscape changed to a busy road and three sonic booms rattled the car violently, causing me to almost jump out of my skin. I was breathing heavily, trying and failing not to panic. Where was I? 


	4. Take Me Away

First of all, can I say I'm really sorry that I'm so far behind schedule! Unfortunately certain big things have been going on with my life that I couldn't fit writing in around. Also, there might be some mistakes in this chapter so feel free to tell me about them. And lastly, as there is no title for this chapter can you please help me by thinking of one? To fit the others I'd like it to come from a line from one of the two Huey Lewis songs from the first movie...thanks! :-)  
  
Jamie McFly and Susan: Thanks for your reviews.  
  
Blind Spot and Stoko: Good guess about the date! It may be relevant later...  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Back To The Future or its characters. Characters from the films are copyright Universal Studios and U-Drive Productions. All other characters are my own creation and may not be used without permission.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Saturday October 14th 1985, 3:15 PM John F Kennedy Drive, Hill Valley, California  
  
I glanced around warily, trying to figure out what was different. People were driving down the road below me with looks of confusion on their faces. I felt like a rare animal on display in the zoo. My ears caught a snatch of a traffic report on the radio from one guy's truck: "...looks like we got a little incident over on Kennedy Drive, where I'm told a DeLorean is actually flying above the highway..."  
  
Wait a second...driving BELOW me? I looked down again to check I wasn't seeing things. No, there were definitely no other flying cars. I felt like such an idiot; this was way embarrassing. Better at least try and look normal sooner rather than later. I turned off onto a side street and put the car into descend mode. It floated down to the ground with a hiss just as I hit the fly-to-drive conversion button that I'd installed in case of situations like this. Clearly the skyway wasn't going to be invented for a good few years yet. I backed the DeLorean onto the road and set off into town.  
  
Courthouse Square sure looked different. I watched as a truck with a black Toyota pickup just like Jake's on the back of it pulled up outside the Statler dealership. Part of me was curious to investigate it. I got out of the DeLorean and approached cautiously as the car was backed off the truck. The license number was exactly the same as Jake's! I remembered him telling me his grandfather had given him the hover-converted car for his seventeenth birthday. This must have been when it was brand new. I could see a proud-looking mother and father standing behind their son, smiling as a guy got out of the pickup and handed the keys to the teenager. These must have been Jake's grandfather and great-grandparents. I felt a pang of jealousy as the family drove away – partly because for a second I thought I was looking at Jake himself, and partly because I wished I could be part of a family like that.  
  
"Yeah, I know. Life's cruel sometimes, isn't it?"  
  
I looked round to see a fairly short guy with short brown hair, dark eyes, a slightly turned-up nose and boyish features standing behind me. He was wearing jeans and a denim jacket with an 'Art in Revolution' button on it, and carried a couple of skateboards. I nodded in response, smiling awkwardly. "Some day," the guy said, looking wistfully at the pickup, "some day." I was about to mention that I knew someone with one of those cars, but decided not to say anything. An uneasy silence hovered on the air as his gaze went to the DeLorean.  
  
"Cool car," he said. I nodded in response as he gave me a confident but not arrogant smile. "Is it yours?"  
  
"Kinda," I said, trying to sound vague. "A friend of mine lent it to me." It wasn't a lie. I was trying to avoid looking at him in case I did something stupid. Already I could feel myself blushing. Why was I so nervous? It wasn't like I had any kind of attraction to this guy...  
  
"Oh, so you can talk!" He laughed and the very street seemed to sing. "So, how long have you been in Hill Valley? I don't think I've ever seen you around before."  
  
"You haven't," I said, a little too quickly, "but I've been here all my life." The instant the words were out of my mouth I kicked myself mentally. Remember, Megan, you won't exist for another forty-three years! "I mean," I added, "it feels like I've lived here for years."  
  
"I know the feeling." He held out a hand. "My name's Marty."  
  
"Meg," I replied, shaking his hand warmly. "I'm staying with the friend who loaned me the DeLorean, just for a few weeks while my parents are in Aruba. It's my first day in town."  
  
"I'll show you around if you like," Marty said. "Do you know how to skateboard?"  
  
As we cruised around town, I picked up on little things that had changed. The sight of people working out in what would be Café Eighties was a total shock to me. And the lake in front of the courthouse (it wouldn't be a mall until twenty years later) was now a parking lot! Marty seemed to find my disbelief that Texaco only had one level hilarious. I tried not to give too much away, but it all just seemed so different. I wondered what he'd make of 2045 if I took him back there in the DeLorean.  
  
Suddenly Marty stopped behind a truck and crouched down. I copied him, looking around to see what he was watching. A gang of girls was sitting on the parking lot benches, laughing and giggling. His gaze was fixed on one in particular. She had long brown wavy hair and wore a blue jacket over a white shirt, pink trousers and white trainers. Even though her style was a little weird by the standards of where I came from, I thought she looked cool. "Who's she?" I whispered to Marty.  
  
"Sssh!" he hissed, not looking at me. Then he said, "Her name's Jennifer Parker." I noticed his whole face soften as he said it, and couldn't help smiling. Part of me wanted to act all girly and start giggling, but it would be too mean. Clearly he was crazy about her. There was a little feeling of sadness within me, but it faded almost instantly. I looked at Jennifer as she laughed with her friends, tossing back her hair. She seemed so sure of herself and positive. Why she wasn't interested in somebody as cool as Marty was totally confusing; I'd only been hanging out with him for a day and already I thought he was a great person.  
  
Suddenly I noticed a hand on Marty's shoulder and glanced up. A girl with short spiky black hair, shot through with pink streaks, and dressed in typical punk clothing was standing behind him. "What are you looking at, buttface?" she said spitefully. I was taken aback – it was Jessica's voice coming out of her mouth! She turned away from me with a sneer and turned Marty's face towards her. As her fingers slid under his chin and lifted his head up, he unwittingly rose from the ground.  
  
"Hey, McFly," she said, rolling the words round her mouth. "Stop wasting your time on that goody-two-shoes Jennifer Parker. You know you want it." Her green eyes glittered with malice. "The generous offer I made you at the start of the semester still stands, you know." She tilted her head down and glanced up at him, twisting a lock of hair idly around her finger. "Ditch the dork and get with me. I'll make it worth your while." Her tongue crept out from between her bright red lips and she ran it over her teeth. I shuddered as she cast another chilling glance in my direction.  
  
"The answer's no, Tiffany." Anger flickered in the girl's eyes as Marty spoke. I couldn't tell whether it was because of what he said or because he used her full name. "I don't know or care who put that idea in your weird little mind, but I never liked you and I never will. Why don't you crawl back to your scuzzball boyfriend?"  
  
"Needles and I broke up." Tiff's voice grew whiny as she widened her eyes, trying to look devastated. I snorted disdainfully in response; she didn't fool me with that old routine. Jess pulled that on Jake all the time. "I told him we weren't right for each other, but he keeps calling me and coming by my house. I need a real man to protect me." She ran her tongue over her teeth and stared Marty in the eye. "Come on, McFly, be realistic. I don't have a date for the dance and neither do you. It's not like she's gonna say anything to you in the next few days. Of course, if you want to play hard to get, fine. Just call me when you're not so stubborn." She strode across the square, the heels of her black buckled boots clicking menacingly.  
  
"Who's she?" I asked, but Marty didn't reply. He just glared at her retreating back for a long time, then glanced back at Jennifer. I could tell this girl had majorly upset him. My blood was boiling with an overwhelming desire to lash out – just the way I felt when I was around Jess.  
  
"She's called Tiff Tannen," said Marty with a sigh. "And she's right." He turned away and looked me straight in the eye. "Come on, Meg, be honest. What chance has a guy like me got with a girl like that? Jennifer's way too good for me." I was surprised to hear him talking like this; he'd seemed so confident earlier. "Besides, she's obviously going to the dance with someone else."  
  
"Who?" In response, Marty gestured towards the group of teenagers on the parking lot bench. A heavy-set guy with platinum blonde spiked hair was forcing his way through the crowd. His features looked familiar, but I couldn't quite match them. Marty and I watched as the guy wrapped his arms around Jennifer's waist and playfully pressed his thumbs into her back. She jumped up with the shock and span round. I was surprised she didn't slap him instantly. As he dragged her towards him, she struggled to escape his clutches. Finally pulling away, she ran down the street. I could hear him shouting after her, but the words were inaudible.  
  
"That's Tom Tannen," Marty said flatly. Now I realised why he was so familiar! A Hill Valley with one teenage Tannen was bad enough, but two of them would make the place a living nightmare. No wonder everyone seemed so afraid of those two. I watched as Jennifer disappeared out of sight and wondered what was going on with her and Tom. If I had the time... What was I talking about? Of course I had the time! I glanced at my old digital watch and my eyes almost popped out of my head. It was almost 5:30 PM; Jules and Verne had told me I needed to be at their dad's place by quarter past.  
  
"Look, I'm really sorry but I gotta go," I said. "Are you going to be around here tomorrow?"  
  
Marty nodded. "Tell you what," he said, pulling a gum wrapper and a pen out of his jacket pocket, "here's my number. Give me a call later." He scribbled something hastily and I stuffed it into my trouser pocket. I nodded my thanks and almost ran to the DeLorean, got in and set off for Riverside Drive. My head was spinning as an eerie feeling settled over me. There was something not quite right about this...  
  
Marty watched as the car pulled out of Courthouse Square. This girl was great – smart, funny and just a little mysterious. Forget Jennifer Parker; he had to get to know Meg a lot better. "I gotta tell Doc," he muttered as he set his skateboard down on the pavement. "This is heavy."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Saturday October 14th 1985, 5:45 PM 1646 John F Kennedy Drive, Hill Valley, California  
  
I was in such a rush to get back to the Browns' house that I almost bypassed it. The place seemed a lot bigger than it was back in the future. I crept warily up the path, filled with a sense of awe that I was about to meet the inventor of the time machine I'd been driving. Just as I reached the garage, the door swung open and an old guy in his mid-sixties with a shock of long white hair peered round it. I did a double take. "Jules? Verne?"  
  
The scientist's face broke into a wide smile. "Unfortunately not, Megan," he said with a chuckle. "I'm Doctor Emmett L Brown, but please feel free to call me Doc. The boys already dropped by in the train to let me know you'd be visiting." I must have looked confused as he quickly added, "I had an old steam train converted into a time travel vehicle back in the 1880s. It's a long story; I'm sure your grandfather told me all about it."  
  
I didn't reply. Doc showed me into the house, indicating his array of inventions. I was particularly drawn to what looked like half of a giant model molecule and an enormous amplifier. "Marty'll be dropping by in the morning to practise for the dance auditions," Doc explained. "I've been letting him use that amp for a while now." I wasn't really listening; the scattered diagrams and half-finished projects fascinated me. I was definitely going to try way harder in science class from now on. There was a huge object under a sheet at the back of the garage that caught my eye. I walked over to it and was just about to lift the cover when Doc's brown- paper hand closed around my wrist. "Don't touch that!" he said, trying to hide his obvious panic. "It's very sensitive equipment."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Doc, you forget who I'm related to. It doesn't take a genius to work out what this is." I lifted the cover and glanced across the DeLorean. It looked so much better than Jules and Verne's attempt to fix it. Part of me wondered whether Doc knew how much trouble his invention was going to cause in the future – or did I mean the past? I wasn't sure I understood.  
  
A dog that was the spitting image of Franklin scampered over and I bent down to stroke him. He barked loudly as there was a tapping sound on the door. Doc walked over to it and peered through a crack in the planks. "It's your grandfather!" he muttered and opened the door. Marty stepped inside, his cheeks pink and his hair even messier than usual. In one hand he held the guitar I'd found in the attic only a few days before. I tried to look nonchalant as I glimpsed the tiny carved heart.  
  
"Hey, Doc," he said. "Is it OK if I stop by and..." His gaze fell on me and there was a long pause. "Oh, hi, Meg." I detected a note of surprise but not shock in his voice. "I didn't know you were staying with Doc. Are you guys related or something?"  
  
I opened my mouth but Doc jumped in. "Meg's grandmother is a cousin of mine," he said. "She's staying with me for a week or two while her parents are away. Of course you can come in and practise, Marty, any time you like." He winked at me and headed towards the far end of the garage. I followed Marty as he headed for the amplifier. Part of me felt a little jealous of him getting to play at a school dance, but I shrugged it off.  
  
As he plugged in the guitar and began to tune the amp, I watched from behind one of Doc's bookcases. Marty pulled a pair of sunglasses from his jacket pocket and slipped them on. For a moment I caught a glimpse of the world-famous musician he would become. The silver plectrum I'd salvaged after the crash flashed in the late evening light. I held my breath as his long shadow adjusted its fingers to find the right chord. Beside me Einstein whimpered. "It's OK, boy," I whispered, my voice shaking a little. But it wasn't, and it never would be.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Sunday October 28th 2035, 03:07 AM Hill County General Hospital, Hill Valley, California  
  
I slowly opened one bleary eye. The pain made me wince and for a moment I felt as though I was going to fall backwards. I could see anxious faces surrounding me, but before I spoke the taste of vomit rose in my mouth. My attempt to swallow just made me throw up into the hastily-placed bucket in front of me. The dull ache in my leg and ribs were unbearable, and I couldn't move my neck. I tried to croak the words but it was impossible. For once Aunt Marlene looked terrified. I was a little shocked; she'd always seemed so calm under pressure. But the reaction from my father was expected.  
  
"Oh, thank God!" he whispered and threw his arms around me. I flinched with the pressure on my bruised torso and tried to wriggle away. "I thought I'd lost you too." At first I was confused – too? Then I realised he must have been talking about Mom. Maybe he did love me, even though he never showed it. I couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged me like that. The smile I forced my face into was so painful I could barely sustain it. I noticed a tear at the corner of his eye, and my aunt's. There was something wrong. They wouldn't cry like that for me; I might have only been seven, but I wasn't stupid enough for this to end like some bad TV movie.  
  
"Where's Grandpa Marty?" I asked, innocently enough. "Is he OK?" Instantly their attitudes changed. Aunt Marlene shifted in her hard orange plastic chair, focussed on the pitch darkness outside the window. My father looked straight into my eyes, his head tilted downwards as he fingered my horrible mint green blanket. Ever since then I've hated mint green and orange. I didn't connect their behaviour to my question. "Can I see him?" I pressed.  
  
"Are you going to tell her or should I?" Marlene asked. Her voice seemed softer than usual. I grew tense inside, feeling the iron fist of fear squeeze my stomach. Suddenly I thought I was going to throw up again. I didn't need either of them to say anything; I'd watched enough soap operas to know what had happened. My father reached out and held my tiny white hand in his huge paws. He didn't look at me. I wanted to slap his face towards me, forcing him to stare me in the eye. By now I was fighting the tears.  
  
"Honey, I'm so sorry," he said. "But there were...complications. Your grandpa needed to have an operation. And then his heart stopped working...the doctors tried everything, but I'm afraid they couldn't save him. He died a couple of hours ago."  
  
"NO!" I pushed my father away weakly. "It's not true! You're all liars! I HATE YOU!" I yanked the covers roughly towards me and buried myself under them, feeling bitter and guilty. At that moment the tears erupted like a damp volcano. I poured all my energy into them, letting the sheets become sodden. There was an emptiness inside me that I knew I'd never fill...an emptiness I was to blame for. It was my fault he was dead. I must have fixed the car wrong, that was why the brakes hadn't worked. My fingers clutched the silver plectrum I'd pulled from his jacket pocket before I passed out. I'd killed my own grandpa, and I'd never get away from that. That was the reality I'd have to live with for the rest of my life.  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Saturday October 14th 1985, 5:55 PM 1646 Riverside Drive, Hill Valley, California  
  
I was shaken from my waking nightmare as Marty struck the guitar string and a powerful note blasted from the speaker. He keeled over backwards with the force, landing with a painful-sounding thud. Einstein yelped loudly as several doorstep-like volumes crashed to the floor around him. I ducked the Columbia University School of Medicine Encyclopaedia of Health and dived to avoid The Compiled Hill Valley Telegraph 1880-1950. Doc didn't seem bothered at all; I guessed he was used to it, since he'd known my grandpa for three years now. As Marty got to his feet and shook his head, I ran over to him.  
  
"Are you OK?" I asked. He nodded dazedly and lifted the shades to survey the devastation. Then his eyes met mine and we exploded with simultaneous laughter. It seemed like forever since I'd let myself do that. I wiped my eyes and reached into my jeans pocket, rubbing the plectrum between my thumb and forefinger. I've always done that, even when I was a kid; it's sort of like my comfort blanket. Marty gripped my wrist and leaned against the empty bookcase, breathing heavily. I tried not to hiccup as I avoided his eyes.  
  
"Hey," he said, as though he'd just remembered something. "I guess you must be pretty hungry." I was about to reply when my stomach answered for me, rumbling so loudly the people in the next block probably heard it. Already I could feel my cheeks starting to burn. Marty smiled, obviously stifling the urge to giggle. "You wanna head over to Burger King and grab something to eat?" he asked. Before I could open my mouth we were heading out the door. I caught Doc's eye just before we disappeared into the night and he gave me the thumbs-up. Instantly my nervousness vanished. Maybe this was going to turn out all right. But of course, real life is never that simple.  
  
~*~*~*~*~ Saturday October 14th 1985, 6:15 PM Burger King, Riverside Drive, Hill Valley, California  
  
"So how long are you going to be in town?" Marty asked as he reached for his Diet Pepsi and took a sip. I pretended to be thinking, slowly chewing my burger as my brain tried to form a credible answer. This was the first awkward silence in the conversation.  
  
"I guess as long as I need to," I replied. "It's a second honeymoon and believe me, my parents have a LOT to resolve. Sometimes I wonder if I'm living with the real-life Keatons." Marty laughed and punched me playfully on the arm. I wasn't sure how to respond; it wasn't meant to be that funny. Suddenly the dirty glass and chrome door swung back and a guy in his early twenties walked in. He grinned at Marty, who waved back. It was pretty obvious they knew each other.  
  
"Hey, Dave," said Marty as the guy approached. "What are you doing hanging around your old haunt?"  
  
"Anything's better than Mom's idea of cooking," Dave replied. "Her idea of culinary skills is dialling the number for Pizza Hut." They both laughed and I grinned tentatively. "Say, who's this?" Dave asked, turning to look at me.  
  
"Meg, this is my older brother Dave," Marty said before I could speak. This whole thing of people doing all my talking for me was starting to drive me crazy. "Dave, this is Meg..." He paused as though trying to remember something. "What did you say your last name was again?"  
  
"I didn't," I said, sounding a bit too nervous. "But it's Flaherty." That sounded OK – not too weird, but not too regular either. I'd got it from the lead character on this old TV show I always watched. "Excuse me for a second," I said, slipping from my stool and heading towards the bathrooms. My head was spinning was confusion. The lies were going to catch up with me sooner or later, but I hated not being able to tell Marty the truth. For the first time I wished we'd never managed to fix the DeLorean.  
  
I splashed my face with cold water and tried to control my deep breathing. Time to bite the bullet. As I approached the door back into the restaurant, I could hear the sound of voices. My hearing seemed to grow more accurate as I crept closer to the door, listening in on every word.  
  
"So, tell me about this girl." I watched through a minuscule gap in the door as Dave leaned forward on his stool. "What's the deal with you guys?"  
  
"Aw, come on, Dave." Marty turned away from his brother. "I only met her today. She's just some niece of Doc's who's in town for a few days. You know I'm still crazy about Jennifer." I suppressed a giggle; the tips of his ears were turning red, just like mine do when I lie or I'm nervous.  
  
"Don't try to kid me, Marty. I'm not as dumb as you think I am," Dave replied. "I know you too well. Besides, I saw the way you were looking at her. Quit fooling around and tell me what's really going on."  
  
Marty sighed. "Well, I don't know, and that's the truth," he said after a pause, his whole face softening. "Meg's...incredible. She's just so different from all the other girls I've dated. I mean, we're so alike it's weird – she skateboards, she likes Van Halen and Huey Lewis – call me crazy, but it feels like there's some kind of a connection between us, you know?" His voice trailed off. "But she's only a friend. She has to be. Once her parents come back from the Caribbean I'll probably never see her again." He looked almost as though he might cry.  
  
Dave nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, but I guess if you don't try you'll never know. If you like her, then personally I'd go for it. Face it, little bro, Tom Tannen's all over Jennifer – it isn't worth the risk. The worst that can happen is that Meg turns you down."  
  
Suddenly the realisation hit me. "Great Scott!" I muttered. This was heavy. I had to get out of here fast. Frantically I shoved the door open, intending to head back to Doc's place. Marty and Dave twisted round at the bang of the door against the wall to see a blue and red blur collide with the opening exit. I winced as my head hit the floor, then everything went out of focus, fading into black. 


End file.
